


Lounge Style

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: The Cab
Genre: M/M, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-02
Updated: 2008-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:16:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Comment fic for withoutmaps. AU.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Lounge Style

**Author's Note:**

> Comment fic for withoutmaps. AU.

Marshall played the bar in the hotel for four weeks before his life changed.

His boss liked him. Said he was a good pianist and had a fresh, young, nice face that put the guests at their ease. He pretty much loved his job; he got to play piano all night _and_ people-watch. Tiny dramas and romances and a whole cross-section of human existance and experience all laid out before him, and he watched quietly, the unconnected observer.

Then came the night that changed it all. A couple walked in, not particularly tall, and what Marshall noticed first was the guy's hair. It was one of those explosive curly mops that nobody ever _wants_ (unless they were transplanted straight from the eighties) but some people can't help having.

Then the guy turned and he smiled at the girl and his arm was around her waist and Marshall noticed that the guy was very, very attractive. Despite the hair. He watched them as subtly as he could, heard the girl laugh and hit him playfully on the arm, and Marshall tried not to hit the wrong notes.

The guy caught his eye and smiled. Marshall smiled back, a reflex, the polite 'hello dear and valued guest' smile -- and the guy was walking over. He was _walking over_.

"Hi," he said, still smiling, and Marshall noticed that up close, he had nice eyes. "Do you take requests?"

"Yes," Marshall nodded, taking a risk and why the fuck was he about to _say_ this?, "but I don't always play them."

The guy's eyebrows shot up momentarily and he broke into a grin. Marshall tried to ignore the way his heart was thumping. "Okay. It's just that my sister," he indicated the girl and oh god they were _brother and sister_ and Marshall hoped the relief didn't show on his face, "wanted to hear a bar piano version of Hound Dog."

Marshall blinked. "Hound Dog?"

"In the style of gentle background piano," the guy grinned. The corners of Marshall's mouth twitched up.

Without breaking the flow, he segued into the tune, keeping the same volume and feel to the notes. The guy pinched his eyes together and grinned harder, obviously trying not to laugh out loud. "You actually did it," he said, gasping a little around suppressed laughter.

Marshall was finding it hard not to grin himself. "There's a lot I can do," he said, and almost kicked himself when he realised the tone it had come out in.

The guy stopped suppressing laughter and shot him a look. He was still smiling, though, like there was a joke only he was getting. Marshall kind of wanted to be in on the punchline. "That so?" he said, thoughtful. He leaned a little closer and said, "My name's Ian, by the way."

"Marshall," was the half-startled reply. "Alex, Marshall. Everybody just calls me ... Marshall, though."

Ian was smiling even more now. "Well," he said, "Marshall, maybe I'll catch you later."

"Yeah," Marshall nodded as Ian walked back over to his sister. "Yeah," and he played the Hound Dog chorus, lounge style.


End file.
